A Discworld Mystery
by Peter Radox
Summary: A mysterious group of men meet in a desert. A woman is found dead just after the biggest stage performance of her life. Can our hero find a link between these, and many other strange clues? PLEASE review, even if the only thing you can say is it sucks!


The fiery orb of the sun rose above the edge of the world. Its light poured across the lands, flowing into valleys and spilling over mountaintops. The light, slowed by Discworld's magical atmosphere, finally made its way into a great desert where the sand sparkled like tiny jewels. This vast and lonely desert stretched as far as the eye could see. The only sign of life for miles was a nest of ants swarming around a strange piece of bark, left there centuries before by a wondering tribe of nomads and preserved by the severe heat. This tribe of nomads had been delivering spices from their homeland. When they had found their path blocked by the desert, one of the elders of the tribe had been granted a divine inspiration in the ways of geometry: the fastest way to get somewhere was to go in a straight line! This new way of thinking brought about intense excitement within the tribe. Some of the other elders had stubbornly considered it blasphemy, but the majority recognized the genius in this astounding Revelation from the Gods that would surely lead to a New Age of human history. Days of bickering had ensued, and eventually the tribe came to a regrettable yet necessary decision. Those who believed in the legitimacy of the Revelation from the Gods would travel through the desert, and those who still clung to the old ways would go around. Thus the tribe was split. The New Agers had a successful journey at first, but eventually the heat got to their heads. Some began to feel that they were not, in fact, going in a straight line and that certain people (don't want to mention any names now, cough-Gruija and Simbile-cough) had no idea what a straight line was. People would often voice this opinion. One of the nastier times they did so went something like this:

"Gruija! Simbile! We just passed this mirage an hour ago! Do you two even know what a straight line is?"

"Of course we do. Listen, if you think you can do any better than Gruija and I are, please step up and lead us."

"Fine then, I will!"

"I was saying that rhetorically, you fool."

"Well, I wasn't. Get in the back of the line!"

"I don't think we will. Do you think so, Gruija?"

At this point Gruija had cracked his knuckles loudly and said, in a voice dripping with stupid eagerness, "Gruija no think so."

You can imagine what happened next.

The New Agers continued like this across the desert for a year and a day. Finally, when there were only four members of the tribe left (due _mostly_ to natural causes) and they could still see no sign of their journey ever ending, they gave up. No argument; they just lay down and died. However, they determined that before they were gone from the earth forever, they should write down the false Revelation from the Gods as a warning so that no other mortal would be deceived. Having only a piece of bark that they had brought with them left, one of the nomads pricked their finger and wrote the message in their own blood.

It was this piece of barks that a nest of ants were swarming around. However, I as a writer have misled you. This nest of ants was not actually the only sign of life for miles. The other sign was, quite strangely, a group of naked men sitting around a coffee table with an umbrella. They had been sitting here four several hours, and by now they were all extremely hot and thoroughly annoyed. One of the men said so.

"Blast it! This is ridiculous! How long have we been waiting here? It's bad enough that he made us come out here with no clothes, but you'd think he could at least get here on time!"

There were furious nods delivered all around the table, with the exception of one man. He wore a menacing top hat, which completely shaded his eyes from view. In a threatening tone he said, "Mr. Crumbsfield will arrive in due time. As for the issue of clothing, it was a necessary measure to ensure Mr. Crumbsfield's comfort during our conference with him. You all know our policy on meeting our client's terms to the letter."

The men glanced silently around at each other, but no one had the guts to question whether a top hat should be considered clothing. Instead someone said, "Wha' is he den, some kind a' homosexual pervert? I know we always follow da client's requests, but dis seems ta be takin it a bit too far, dunnit boss?"

"Not at all, Thugson. In fact, I can assure you that Mr. Crumbsfield has no interest in our 'personal parts.' We are here unclothed to assure him them we are not, with or without our knowing, equipped with some means to spy on him."

"Aaaahh, I see now, boss," said Thugson, realization spreading across his face. He paused for a moment, features suddenly strained with concentration.

"Wait a minute, boss. What's stoppin' us from usin' our selves to spy on 'im?"

This wisdom was never acknowledged, however, because at that moment Mr. Crumbsfield arrived. They saw him first in the distance, only a tiny speck in the sky. As he approached, they could make out the shape of a dragon. Because Mr. Crumbsfield had not thought to mention he would be arriving by dragon, the group of naked men sitting around the table had no way of knowing it was him. The sight of this terrible creature flying straight towards them caused quite a disturbance, but no one dared move because the man with the top hat had not yet even shown signs of nervousness. Several members of the group began to fidget noticeably, but still the man with the top hat still did nothing. The dragon grew so close that it was possible to make out individual scales on its belly, and finally the stillness broke. The first man to run was a Mr. Wiggs. He stood up suddenly, knocking his chair backwards. He then turned and sprinted out into the sun. He was followed almost immediately by a Mr. Gribbons, who screamed out, "Bloody hell, can't you see it coming?" before he ran in the opposite direction of Mr. Wiggs. This direction happened to be straight at the dragon. As soon as he noticed his folly, Mr. Gribbons fainted in panic. By that time the rest of the men had all hurriedly dispersed, even Mr. Thugson who only ran because everyone else seemed to be doing it and he didn't want to be left out. Still the man in the top hat remained, patiently watching with folded hands as the menacing creature approached. The dragon flew directly over the table, where it stopped and hovered. A rope ladder fell to the ground, and far above a frail old man could be seen slowly descending it. He reached the ground and, in a voice like wrinkled paper, said, "Hello chaps, sorry to keep you waiting!"

Several minutes later, when order was finally restored and everyone had agreed that the dragon actually improved the shade, the man in the top hat spoke.

"I apologize, Mr. Crumbsfield, for the disorganization of my men. I can assure you that they will be punished for their lack of commitment."

"Oh, there's really no need for that," said Crumbsfield, slightly shocked. "I'm sure it was my fault, really. I should have warned you that I own a dragon."

The man in the top hat coughed menacingly.

Crumbsfield shuddered, saying nervously, "Then again, haha, perhaps your chaps do need a bit of discipline!"

"Glad you could see it my way," the man in the top hat said. "Now, to business. I understand you have a problem with your wife. When would you like us to do the job?"

After the conference ended and Mr. Crumbsfield had left, Thugson noticed an odd object half-buried in the sand. He picked it up and brushed a group of ants off it, and then discovered some shiny red writing. It said, "The quickest path from one point to another is not a straight line." _Rubbish_, he thought, and tossed it to the side.


End file.
